


Come Back

by UAs_Fics



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Headcanon, Werebeaver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 17:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11086080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UAs_Fics/pseuds/UAs_Fics
Summary: Woodie decides to give up on being himself, and Lucy tries to bring him back.(First Don't Starve Fic. Somewhat heavy on the headcanons)





	Come Back

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Come Back  
> Rating: T  
> Fandom: Don’t Starve  
> Ships: N/A  
> Summary: Woodie decides to give up on being himself, and Lucy tries to bring him back.  
> Content Warnings: Suicide mention

The sun stained the sky a deep red as it dipped down below the horizon. Woodie dropped the load of logs down by his fire pit then plopped down himself. He grabbed a log and a clump of grass and tossed them into the pit. After a moment, the small embers at the bottom of the pit caught the grass alight.  
Woodie wiped his brow with the back of his hand then turned his backpack from his back and to his lap. He opened the top and reached in. He pulled out a couple of dead fish. He set the fish to his left. They'd make some good fish jerky.  
After emptying the charcoal, flint, and twigs from his bag, Woodie pulled out Lucy the axe.  
“It was so stuffy in there!” she complained.  
“Sorry aboot that,” Woodie replied as he propped her up against a chest. “Didn't want to risk the beefalo knocking you from my hand as I ran past.” Woodie ran a hand over his beard for a moment before walking over to a small tree. He placed a hand on the evergreen's rough bark. This tree's ancestors had kept Woodie alive through most of the last winter, shielded him and Lucy from the rain and heat, and even served as a makeshift Christmas tree.  
The lumberjack looked up to the sky with his mouth set in a frown. Could God even see him in this place? Woodie let his hand fall to his side. Would he even want to be seen? Woodie didn't actually know one way or another if some of what he'd done to survive in this place would be a sin. Would anything he felt guilty about be a sin? What about the rabbits he'd murdered? Or all the time’s he’d sacrificed pigmen to fight his battles for him? Did the pigs count as human?  
Woodie rubbed his temples and pushed the thoughts from his mind. If he dwelled on them, it would wear on his mind. Instead, he crouched down and picked up one of his straw rolls. The moldy cobbled together straw and rope bundle was no where near a proper sleeping roll, but for now it would do. At least it was better than sleeping on the ground.  
“Hmm? Are you going to sleep already? The sun's just barely set!” Lucy exclaimed. “Besides, weren't you going to make another fishing rod this evening? And what about those fish you wanted to dry? It's such a waste of time to sleep the evening away.”  
Woodie rolled out the straw roll on the ground near his fire. Smoothing down the stray bits of straw as best he could, Woodie knelt at the end of the roll. He took a deep breath. “Lucy?” he asked as he exhaled.  
“Yes?”  
“I'm starting to wonder,” he slumped forward a tad, “if I should just... _give up_.”  
Lucy gasped. She shook against the chest. “What are you talking about, Woodie?! You've spent two years out here, and now you just want to give up? Who is suppose to chop trees with me when you're gone, Woodie? A beefalo? _A Gobbler?_ Well guess what? Neither of them have hands, and even if they did, I wouldn't let them hold me! How are you even going to do it? Starve? Fall in the ocean? Eat a bunch of red mushrooms?”  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Woodie gently set a hand against Lucy's blade. “I don't mean give up like that, Lucy. I mean give up being...me.” He took his hand away. “I'm tired of fighting the curse. I'm tired of waking up after the full moon in the middle of a bunch of down trees and living logs. I'm tired of being barely awake but running for my life because I attacked some monster. I'm just so tired.” Woodie heaved a sigh. “I’m starting to think things would be easier if I just stopped trying to fight it and gave in. I got exactly what I wanted. In this world, I can't hurt other people, even on accident! I--”  
“Yes, you would!” Lucy cut in. “You'd be hurting me! You're the best partner I've ever had, and if you give into the curse, you'll have to leave me! My heart can't take another abandonment like that, Woodie.”  
“Lucy...” Woodie trailed off.  
He looked up at the night sky for a long moment. Woodie connected a few of the stars together with his eyes. The stars weren't the same here as back home. They didn't form the same constellations, so long ago Woodie had made up new ones as a replacement.  
His eyes wandered from Jumper, the rabbit constellation, to The Great Eye Beast, before settling down onto the straw roll in front of him. Woodie squeezed his hands into fists once then let the tension leave his body.  
He stretched out on the roll, his back turned towards Lucy.  
“Woodie? Woodie, don't ignore me,” Lucy huffed. “Promise me you'll keep those thoughts out of your head. You aren't giving up on being Woodie in favor of being a smelly beaver. You got that?”  
Woodie nodded, but didn't look at her. “Yeah.” He rested his head on his hands. “Good night, Lucy.”  
Pleased with herself, Lucy replied, “Sleep tight, Woodie.”

Woodie rolled over and groaned. Usually sleep would leave him peckish, but at least feeling human again. Not this time though. What Woodie got last night was pretty far from a good night's sleep. Honestly, he wasn't sure he got much sleep at all. It seemed every time he finally dozed off, he'd be forced awake again.  
His body ached as he stood. He rolled his shoulders and stretched out. His joints popped.  
“Just like back home,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. His arms dropped to his side as he lumbered over to his crock pot. There were still some meatballs left from yesterday. Cold and a tad stale, but it'll do. It was better than nothing.  
“Hey! Woodie!” Lucy exclaimed, “That grove you planted last week must be nothing but tall evergreens by now! We'll make a day of it.”  
Woodie grabbed the fish he'd left last night and began to tie them up on the drying rack.  
“Come on,” Lucy giggled, “let's go, go, go and chop, chop, chop! Hey, I'm talking to you. It's rude to ignore a lady like this, Woodie.”  
The lumberjack gently took Lucy from her place against the chest and set her aside. From the chest, he pulled out a few gold nuggets and twigs then headed toward his science machine.  
The gears of the machine began to whirl as he neared. He rested a hand on the machine. Woodie didn't really trust all this 'science' stuff. Especially not the kind of science that put ideas and knowledge straight into his head without even asking. That was the kind of science that brought him here in the first place, after all. Woodie could still remember when a different voice came from his axe, promising him a solution to his problems.  
He heard Lucy yelling at him while he worked, asking what he was doing and when they were going out to cut down some trees. Woodie didn't answer. He didn't want to be distracted from making the only tool he'd never made before.  
“There we are,” Woodie finished and pushed himself up. He held the axe upwards. The sun glinted against the golden blade. He turned and gripped the handle tight in his hand. Not as natural feeling as Lucy, but it'll do.  
Lucy let out a strangled gasp when Woodie walked back over. “You two timer! How could you do this to me? That golden hussie will never replace me, and you know it!”  
Woodie tucked the golden axe into his backpack then picked Lucy up from the ground.  
“Put me down, you hound dog!” She shook against his palms. “I won't forgive you for this!”  
“Lucy, please,” Woodie took a breath, “when that grey devil drags someone else here, please, for me, help them when they find you.” He lifted open the chest lid. “I'm sure it won't be long. Maybe the next person can take you back home. Just...warn them about me.”  
“No, no, no! Woodie, don't do this! Don't do this to me!” Lucy cried as he set her down in the chest. “You promised! No, don't you dare shut me in here! Woodie! _Woodie!_ ”  
Woodie could still hear her screams as he shut the chest. He swallowed the lump in his throat. _Real lumberjacks don't cry._ He slung his backpack over his shoulder. Woodie had to leave _now_. With Lucy's shrieks still ringing in his ears, Woodie turned his back on his camp--on his life--and marched toward the thick evergreen forest.

~~~~~

Lucy had been abandoned before. Plenty of times. She had been left in attics, sold to pawn shops, dropped in the middle of the woods. She had been sworn at and blessed by the same holy man. At this point, she'd been left behind so many times she moved quickly from angry to numb. She already accepted that no one wanted a talking axe.  
_No one but Woodie. ___  
Lucy shook against the sides of the chest. It was too small in here, too small and boring and dark and lonely and--  
The hinges of the chest creaked.  
Lucy frozen.  
Was this it? Did Maxwell already drag someone else here? No, what was she thinking? It had to be Woodie! He must have come to his senses and rushed back to her! Oh, he was going to have to chop so many trees to make up for this stunt! A whole forest worth, and then she might consider forgiving him.  
The lid lifted and warm, glorious light fell on Lucy for the first time in what felt like ages.  
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”  
Lucy groaned as loud and obnoxiously as she could. No chopping for her today. No anything for a long, long time.  
A shadow hand slipped down into the chest and lifted Lucy out. Maxwell motioned his own hand. The shadow hand raised Lucy up so she was blade-to-face with the grey devil himself.  
“Left behind once again,” he tutted his tongue. “You really held hope he would stay with you to the end, didn't you?”  
“I don't know what you're talking about.” Lucy stated flatly. “Woodie is just...out. He had to go mining. I didn't want to clutter his bag, so he left me to watch camp.”  
Maxwell motioned and the hand set Lucy down on the chest top. He lowered himself down on one knee then rested one arm across his leg. “Aren't you just the sweetest thing?”  
“Yes. Yes, I am. Now, if you have business with Woodie, you'll have to come back later, or I can take a message for you. Which ever gets you out of here faster.” Lucy replied coyly.  
Maxwell chuckled. “Oh, Lucy, why are you lying to me? Didn't I create you better than that? I even let you have a personality, unlike those radios. And yet,” he reached out to touch her handle, “you would still rather side with any pawns that you yourself help bring here, even though you know they're not going to make it. I can't say I understand that.”  
“You wouldn't!” Lucy snapped as she tried to move away from his touch. “You've been trapped here so long you don't even remember what it's like to have friends.”  
Maxwell’s smile didn't waver. Instead he shrugged. “You can project your uncertainties on me all you wish, but that doesn't change the fact that your 'friend' isn't coming back.” He readjusted himself into a crouching potion. “It's a pity really. A pawn with such potential, and he only made it two springs. I really did think his curse would be a, let's say, blessing in disguise. That maybe he'd learn to control it, but, like so many before, I overestimated him. He was just a normal man after all.”  
Lucy let out a growling noise. Woodie was anything but a normal man. Woodie was the kindest, bravest, best swing Lucy had ever had the chance to meet! He had fought against some of the worst monsters Maxwell had thrown at him with nothing but a log suit and a spear! Lucy was sure Maxwell wouldn't survive one day in his own game!  
“Oh?” Maxwell smirked, “What's wrong? Sad about being abandoned? Or that it's time to stop playing house and go back to your job?”  
“No,” She shook, “no, he's coming back for me. You can't make me leave him.”  
Maxwell cackled then pushed himself back up to his feet. He held his hands behind his back and looked towards the setting sun. His lips pulled back across his tobacco stained teeth in a sneer.  
“Would you like to make a deal with me, Lucy?”  
“A deal?” she echoed. Skepticism dripped from her voice.  
“Yes, a deal.” Maxwell snapped his fingers. In the distance came the baying of hounds. He turned his smirk back to her.  
“I'll give you a chance to talk to Woodie, snap him out of his hopelessness. If you can somehow do that, I'll provide the both of you with a new camp and all the food and equipment he'll need to care for himself until the next full moon.” Maxwell raised his hand. The shadow hand lifted the axe off the chest.  
Lucy questioned, “And, if I can't? What will you do to him then?”  
“If you can't, then Woodie becomes a permanent fixture of this world, another obstacle, for the next pawn. And _you_ , my dear,” Maxwell jabbed a curved, bony finger at her, “will go back to the other world and get my pawns without complaint, and you _won't_ come with them, either. I'm getting tired of sending you between worlds like this.”  
As the barking of the hounds grew nearer, Lucy mulled over the deal. She knew Woodie better than anyone. He'd confessed both his hopes and fears to her. They were friends, so she was sure she could talk Woodie down.  
_If Woodie is still in there._ Lucy pushed the thought from her mind.  
At that moment, a pack lead by a blue hound, came running up, yipping and howling. The blue hound rubbed affectionately against Maxwell's leg. Maxwell rested a hand between the hound's ears.  
“Well, Lucy? What will it be?” Maxwell scratched the hound’s head absentmindedly. It's tongue rolled out of it's mouth.  
Lucy sighed. “I can't just...wait here, can I?”  
“No.”  
“Shoot,” Lucy muttered. “Fine. You've got a deal, Maxwell. Take me to Woodie.”

__~~~~~_ _

___The structure towered up, blocking out the waning moon. It was built of neatly stacked, bark-bare logs and mud. A trench circled the dam. Though it was empty now, the bottom of the trench was still muddy from the last rain. If the days stayed cool and the next storm brought a deluge, then the trench would become a moat._  
Maxwell raised his hand in a motion of stop to the pack. The lead hound marched forward and gently set Lucy down next to its master's feet. Maxwell nodded. The blue hound's howl echoed off the nearby rocks and stumps. The pack dashed forward toward the lodge.  
They began to jump and bite at the logs. Their claws dug into the wood as they scratched the sides. A few began to climb up and dug at the mud holding the logs together.  
“What are you doing!?” Lucy gasped. “Stop it! You're scaring him!”  
“That's the point,” Maxwell crossed his arms. “He won't come out otherwise.”  
Before Lucy could reply, a low chattering came from lodge. Some of the logs began to shake. The hounds yipped and hurried towards the moving logs. The creature under the logs started to moved down to the base of the dam then stopped. The hounds growled, but held their distance.  
Maxwell took a step towards the trench and looked down. He put his fingers to his lips then whistled at the hounds. Not without a few whimpers, the pack climbed off the dam and moved back into position behind him. He raised a hand then smirked.  
From inside the dam came a human-like scream. An orange-brown blur shot out of the exit hidden in the mud of the trench. The werebeaver barreled up and over the lip of the trench as a shadow hand slipped out from behind it, a few wiry beaver hairs in between its fingers.  
The second the beaver came into their view, the hounds bolted from behind their master and surrounded the beaver. The creature's eyes widened. His nostrils flared. The beaver slapped his wide, flat tail against the ground in warning. His teeth chattered together at the hounds, but they didn’t back away.  
“Woodie!” Lucy cried. “Maxwell, leave him alone! I can’t talk to him like this.”  
Maxwell rolled his eyes. He snapped his fingers and all the hounds but one took a step back. The remaining hound quickly turned and ran towards the entrance to the lodge, blocking it.  
“Go ahead. See what you can do. You have until nightfall.” Maxwell gestured. The blue hound once again took Lucy in it’s teeth. The hound inched towards the beaver, not close enough to make him attack, but close enough Lucy wouldn’t have to yell. It set her on the ground before backing away.  
Seeing the axe, the beaver stopped his aggressive display for a moment. He took a few careful steps forward before sniffing her handle.  
“Woodie! Woodie, it’s me! It’s Lucy!”  
The beaver jumped back at the outburst.  
“Come on, you know me,” Lucy said, softer this time. “I’m your friend. You have to remember me, Woodie. Don’t you? Think back, at the lumber camp outside of Alberta? You misplaced your other, ugly axe out in the woods after a full moon and found me in a stump? You said it was like that King Arthur story, remember? Do you remember, Woodie?”  
The beaver tilted his head but didn’t respond otherwise. At least he was paying attention to her. That was something right?  
“And, remember how when I said hello, you didn’t run or anything? You thought I was a blessing, since I didn’t care about your, well, you know! Oh, and all the trees we chopped. We had such fun conversations when we worked together, remember Woodie?”  
“Don't forget to remind him about how I used you as a way to make him build the portal and come to his place. I’m sure that will bring back his humanity.” Maxwell cackled.  
“Would you shut up?” Lucy snapped.  
The beaver took a nervous step away from her.  
“No, no, no! Not you Woodie! I’m not yelling at you” she sighed. “You're still in there. I can tell. You didn’t give up and leave me, so I’m not giving up on you!” Lucy racked her mind for more memories she could use. Soon, Lucy found herself babbling about anything and everything that might bring him back.  
The night neared dangerously close when Lucy sputtered out of stories. While the beaver did keep his attention on her, he never gave a sign that he understood.  
Maxwell shrugged. “You tried your best, but it was all for not. Grab her,” he ordered to the blue hound.  
“No! Get your teeth off me, you mutt! Cur! Filthy mutt!” she howled as the hound grabbed her in its teeth. “Woodie! Woodie, save me! Beat up this stupid dog and then come back!”  
The beaver backed away. The fur on his shoulders raising up.  
“Woodie, this isn’t what you want! This isn't what I want! It’s what that devil man wants! He’ll make you another piece in his games, like these mangy, ugly dogs! That’s what you’ll be if you don’t let go of your beaverness! Another toy for him to use--” Lucy gasped as an idea hit her. She shook violently and rattled the dog's teeth. “Maxwell will use you to _hurt_ other people! He’ll bring people here to attack you, and you’ll either die or lash out! That’s why you came here, remember? So you won’t hurt anyone!”  
Maxwell leaned down and held his hand out. The hound took a stumbling step. Lucy's shaking made it difficult to walk straight.  
Lucy didn't care, though. She didn't care about the slobbery teeth on her handle or the soulless man who made her. She only cared about bringing back Woodie.  
“You know what? Fine! Be that way!” Lucy screamed. “If you want to kill another human, then maybe you’re not the man I let be my friend. You’re just a coward, like all the rest! A dirty, disgusting excuse of a heartless human being! Enjoy your time spent hiding away and chopping trees with your teeth and not me--”  
“ _YIPE!_ ” The hound screeched.  
Lucy fell from its teeth and clattered onto the ground. Dust and mud pressed into her blade. She felt a warm hand wrap around her handle and pull her from the ground. A thick thumb wiped the grime from her blade.  
“Lucy?” Woodie croaked. His voice was hoarse. He had dark bags under his unfocused eyes. His hair and beard turned out in every possible way. He held his head, wobbling.  
“Woodie!” She exclaimed. “You’re back! Don't you ever do that again, do you hear me?...Woodie?”  
The lumberjack fell to the side. If not for his heartbeat pounding right near Lucy’s blade, she would have sworn he was dead.  
Maxwell raised his eyebrows in surprise. “How unexpected.” At the snap of his fingers, the hounds moved away. The pack leader howled before leading them back towards their hound mounds.  
Maxwell stood, dusted off his coat, then pulled a cigar from his pocket. “Well, I suppose a deal is a deal.” Maxwell pointed to the horizon. “Tell Woodie when he wakes, there will be a camp set up for the both of you over beyond that grove, near the grasslands. It’ll get him through until the next full moon. However,” Maxwell put his cigar between his teeth and lit it, “If this were to ever happen again, I will be taking you back and allowing the wilderness to take _him_. Understand?”  
“It won’t.” Lucy's voice was firm and unwavering.  
Maxwell took a drag and let it out. “For your sake, I sure hope so.”  
Smoke filled the air as the last bits of evening light descended into darkness, taking Maxwell with it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note:  
> Wow, two stories posted in one day, for two different fandoms? Holy mooley!  
> ...don't get use to it.  
> A super big thanks and many high fives to my awesome beta, K , first and foremost. I was a little wary about writing a Don't Starve fic because my record, at the time of this fic, was 35 days, and I spent most of those as a beaver. I haven't even made it past winter completely. ;.; But K is awesome and helped me make sure this was all on the up and up. : )  
> Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed this headcanon linden fic. :3


End file.
